


he says, I says, she says

by plumtrees



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Exhibitionism, Hysterical Literature, Kyoutani reads Virginia Woolf and Yahaba blows him under the table, M/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Vibrators, and Watari films them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:24:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5257166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on Clayton Cubitt's video art series, Hysterical Literature.</p><p>-</p><p>Kyoutani settles his elbows on the desk, relaxing with every passing second. His voice is clear but gruff. Not exactly a voice one would imagine forming around the words of Virginia Woolf, but sophisticated all the same.</p><p>“But who knows (so they thought as they pressed the parasol into the earth) what precipices aren't concealed in them, or what slopes of ice don't shine in the sun on the other side? Who knows? Who has ever seen this before?” </p><p>Beneath the table, he feels it, the beginnings of the game; a warm breath ghosting over his unclothed erection; fingers, nimble and light as spider legs, tapping a melody on his thighs. He uses the pause after the question mark to swallow the saliva pooling beneath his tongue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he says, I says, she says

**Author's Note:**

> To get the ball rolling for my next couple of fics. LEZZ DO DIS.
> 
> Also please do watch the [Hysterical Literature](hystericalliterature.com) series, this work is heavily inspired by it (meaning the premise is lifted and applied to one of my ships lol). You can find them on youtube as well. If you don't wanna basically someone reads from a piece of literature while someone brings them to orgasm from under the table.
> 
> also, the passage Kyoutani reads is from Kew Gardens by Virginia Woolf. The title is taken from that short story as well.

Kyoutani holds the book with steady hands, flipping to the required page. The flutter of paper is loud in the silence of the room and the bright lights shining straight at him is a little unnerving. He eyes the first word, trying to get in the right mindset, before beginning to read aloud.

“The couple stood still on the edge of the flower bed, and together pressed the end of her parasol deep down into the soft earth. The action and the fact that his hand rested on the top of hers expressed their feelings in a strange way, as these short insignificant words also expressed something, words with short wings for their heavy body of meaning, inadequate to carry them far and thus alighting awkwardly upon the very common objects that surrounded them, and were to their inexperienced touch so massive;” 

He settles his elbows on the desk, relaxing with every passing second. His voice is clear but gruff. Not exactly a voice one would imagine forming around the words of Virginia Woolf, but sophisticated all the same.

“But who knows (so they thought as they pressed the parasol into the earth) what precipices aren't concealed in them, or what slopes of ice don't shine in the sun on the other side? Who knows? Who has ever seen this before?” 

Beneath the table, he feels it, the beginnings of the game; a warm breath ghosting over his unclothed erection; fingers, nimble and light as spider legs, tapping a melody on his thighs. He uses the pause after the question mark to swallow the saliva pooling beneath his tongue.

“Even when she wondered what sort of tea they gave you at Kew, he felt that something loomed up behind her words, and stood vast and solid behind them; and the mist very slowly rose and uncovered–O, Heavens, what were those shapes?–little white tables, and waitresses who looked first at her and then at him; and there was a bill that he would pay with a real two shilling piece, and it was real, all real, he assured himself, fingering—” 

A whiff of a laugh blows over his cock. Heat spread across his cheeks but continues with barely a hitch.

“The coin in his pocket, real to everyone except to him and to her; even to him it began to seem real; and then–but it was too exciting to stand and think any longer, and he pulled the parasol out of the earth with a jerk and was impatient to find the place where one had tea with other people, like other people.”

He grinds out the last syllable as a kitten lick teases the head of his cock. It can’t have been more than the tip but the anticipation made it all the more electrifying. His jaw muscles clench with the effort of maintaining his composure.

“"Come along, Trissie; it's time we had our tea."” Kyoutani turns the page with shaky hands. “"Wherever _does_ one have one’s tea?" she asked with the oddest thrill of excitement in her voice, looking vaguely round and letting herself be drawn on down the grass path, trailing her parasol, turning her head this way and that way, f— _fuh_.”

Yahaba’s lips finally close around him, soft and wet and every bit as wicked. Kyoutani’s thighs instinctively clamp around his head and Yahaba lays a hand on his leg, gliding over it, callouses triggering goosebumps in their wake.

“F-Forgetting her tea, wishing to go down there and then down there, remembering orchids and cranes among wild flowers, a Chinese pagoda and a crimson crested bird; but he bore her on.” 

He tries to focus on the words on the page, stares hard at every curve and line of ink on yellowing paper. As if noticing Kyoutani’s attempt to ignore him, Yahaba steps up his game. Yahaba parts his lips slightly, the slow slide of spit spilling from the seams of Yahaba’s mouth causing his toes to curl in his shoes. Yahaba’s always been a sloppy one when giving oral, far too slick than what was absolutely necessary, but _damn_ if Kyoutani doesn’t love it. He opens his mouth once, twice, before a sound actually emerges.

“Thus one couple after another with much the same irregular and aimless movement passed the flower-bed and were enveloped in layer after layer of green blue vapour, in which at first their bodies had substance and a dash of colour, but later both substance and colour dissolved in the green-blue atmosphere.”

His voice is shaking. It’s definitely noticeable now. Yahaba grants him enough mercy to actually let him finish before touching the egg-shaped vibrator against the underside of his dick. It’s off. A fair warning of what’s coming next. His throat bobs with the descent of saliva.

“How hot it was! So hot that even the thrush chose to hop, like a mechanical bird, in the shadow of the flowers, with long pauses between one movement and the next;”

He groans soft, near undetectable, as Yahaba finally turns the toy on. It’s on the lowest setting, but the first shudder is amplified by the arousal already simmering in his stomach. He releases the breath he’s been holding on the next words.

“…instead of rambling vaguely the white butterflies danced one above another, making with their white shifting flakes the outline of a shattered marble column above the tallest flowers the glass roofs of the palm house shone as if a whole market full of shiny green umbrellas had opened in the sun; and in the drone of the aeroplane the voice of the summer sky murmured its fierce soul.” he gasps when the setting goes up several notches, closing his eyes. He forces them open, legs twitching beneath the table as Yahaba shifts the toy around and laps at his slit.

“Yellow and black, pink and snow white, shapes of all these colours, men, women, and children were spotted for a second upon the horizon, and then, seeing the breadth of yellow that lay upon the grass, they wavered and sought shade beneath the trees, dissolving like drops of water in the yellow and green atmosphere, staining it faintly with red and—ngh!”

He braces his weight against the table, breathing heavily through his nose. Fuck, he hadn’t even gotten past the sentence. He leans back against the chair and ducks his head to clear it, using the angle to glare darkly at Yahaba, who had taken him deep; sinful lips making a perfect ring around his cock, tongue rubbing against the sensitive underside, the vibrator held against his balls. He looks up at him, large doe eyes framed with faint lashes, and backs away, making a show of licking his lips then rolling his eyes up to the table. _Keep going,_ they say.

Kyoutani growls softly and loosens his hold on the book, shakily turns the page, thumb flicking along the tear he’d accidentally left on it just to anchor himself.

“…blue. It seemed as if all gross and heavy bodies had sunk down in the heat motionless and lay huddled upon the ground, but their voices went wavering from them as if they were flames lolling from the thick waxen bodies of candles.”

He just barely manages to breathe out the last word before Yahaba repositions the vibrator, kissing the tip of his cock with it. He grunts, clenching his hands tighter around the book as he lifts up a little. Yahaba’s finger is on his knee, tracing what initially seems like a nonsensical pattern, but soon Kyoutani recognizes the kana. 

_Read._

He growls but bounces his knee to acknowledge it (he also hopes it “accidentally” clocks Yahaba on the nose, but no luck). Yahaba’s lips curl into a smile against his inner thigh.

“Voices. Yes, voices. Wordless v-voices, breaking the silence suddenly with such depth of contentment, such p-passion of desire…” the consonant lingers in his mouth as Yahaba licks the skin around the base, laying kisses up the underside of his cock as he climbs back up. He tongues at the head and teases it into his mouth, suckling the tip briefly before pulling away with a soft _pop_.

Kyoutani struggles to control his shaking jaw, trying to find his voice. “…or, in the voices of children, such freshness of surprise; b-breaking the silence?” he croaks, gritting his teeth when the vibrator retreats, nearly knocking the table forward when he surged to chase after the sensation. He wonders how much of that last one was actually understandable, given the horrible tremor weaving into his voice. Yahaba places the vibrator against his balls again, kissing along the crease between his thigh and crotch. His eyes dart around the page for the next part.

“But there was no silence; all the time the motor omnibuses were turning their wheels and changing their gear; like a vast nest of Chinese boxes all of wrought steel— _ah_!” 

He bites down on an abused lip when Yahaba takes both his balls and the vibrator into his mouth. Frantically, he blinks to clear his rapidly-blurring vision.

“…turning ceaselessly one within another the city murmured; on the top of which the voices cried aloud and the petals of myriads of flowers flashed their colours into the air.”

He ends the sentence, much faster than he thinks is intelligible, and right on time too, because Yahaba chooses that exact moment to suck _hard_ and Kyoutani can’t contain the loud _fuck_ that slips out of his mouth, nails etching dents into the desk, book laid abandoned in front of him as he comes hard enough to see stars.

He slumps forward, just barely held up by his arms, hands shaking. He takes several deep breaths, hitching whenever Yahaba licks up his cock, probably cleaning it off. He groans softly at the mental image, slightly sorry that he can’t see it from this angle.

He lifts his head and behind the camera, he sees a wild waving gesture. He swallows enough to lubricate his parched throat.

“I’m Kentarou,” he grinds out, “and this has been _Kew Gardens_ by Virginia Woolf.”

 

-

 

“Aaaaaand, that’s a wrap!”

Someone claps, and the lights in the room come alive. It makes no difference to Kyoutani. He’s still trying to blink away the white dots floating in his vision.

“How was it?” Yahaba pipes up as he climbs out from underneath the table, looking far too pleased with himself for someone with cum all over his face and a very obvious erection straining against his jeans.

Watari throws him a thumbs-up, just as someone with a head of spiky hair ran over to hand Yahaba some tissues. “I got a pretty good take! I don’t even think we need to do another one.”

Kyoutani isn’t sure if Watari was addressing him too; far too busy trying to remember how to move his legs. At least Yahaba had been decent enough to tuck him back in. He fumbles for the tissue box someone provided for him as well while Watari continues to thank Yahaba for agreeing to help with his film project.

“Geez, calm down, Shinji.” Yahaba waves off with a laugh, voice slightly rough. Kyoutani curses the fact that the sound of it makes his spent dick twitch in his boxers. “It was pretty interesting anyway. I’d love to hear what your professor thinks. Oh, by the way, do I get credit for being the guy to make him come in less than five minutes?”

Kyoutani grabs the tissue box and throws it at Yahaba’s head.

**Author's Note:**

> yes I'm working on Four's a Party, chill out I'll get the next one done soon but maybe I should post a non smufic first coz jfc I've been sinning way too much lately 
> 
> say hi @ [plumtreeforest.tumblr.com](http://plumtreeforest.tumblr.com) I only bite if you want me to


End file.
